


Direct Hit

by kowaiyoukai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-16
Updated: 2004-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowaiyoukai/pseuds/kowaiyoukai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco end up alone together on Christmas Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Direct Hit

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Napolde Tinuviel, for the Guns'n'Handcuffs Christmas 2004 Secret Santa. Written on December 16, 2004. Which means this is old. Which means this is in a weird style that I don't really write in anymore. -_-;;

Christmas Eve. Most people would have been pleased with the calm, the quiet, the surreal feeling of the night air against exposed flesh. Most people would have enjoyed the tell-tale whisper of the wind, the restful silence, and the unhurried movement of the stars above. 

Draco Malfoy, however, was not most people. 

He was irritated by the emptiness of the night. It felt hollow, exposed, and lonely. It was cold out, too cold to be waiting for someone that would not be coming. The wind cut across his face, the silence made him ache, and the stars were mocking him in his foolishness. 

He knew it was useless to want Harry. He knew it with everything he was. The Malfoy in him told him Harry was beneath him, unworthy of his time. The pure-blood in him told him Harry was mixed-blood at best. The selfish brat in him told him that being with Harry would mean giving up attention. He knew all of that, knew it as easily as he knew that standing in fresh snow was something only idiots did. 

He was a bit of an idiot. 

After all, his father and mother had left him at Hogwarts due to 'business'. What business it was, he didn't know and care to find out. The only thing that mattered was that he was the only seventh year Slytherin left, and that made it a very lonely holiday indeed. 

Not that he was dependant on his housemates. He wasn't. Draco knew he managed quite well by himself. It was just that he had always been with his family at Christmas. Even though they were cold, perhaps even colder than this night, he had grown used to having them there. A distant façade of familial love was better than no façade at all. 

Draco hated façades. He hated that he felt obliged to carry on his father's legacy, even though all he really wanted to do was laugh at the hypocrisy of it all. He hated that he was forced to play the cruel games of his classmates design, in the never-ending quest for power among his housemates. Most of all, he hated that he was forced to hate Harry. 

It would be easier, if he was allowed to love Harry freely. It would be easier, and so, so much more fulfilling. He knew without a doubt that if he was ever given the chance, he would take it. Regardless of the consequences, he would grasp the opportunity to be with Harry when he saw it. It might only come around once, and then never again. He could not live with himself if he let something so precious slip through his grasp. 

The crunching of snow behind him tore him from his thoughts. Draco turned, somehow recognizing the footsteps, muffled as they were through the snow. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco looked a bit like an angel, Harry decided, and immediately afterwards cursed himself for stupidity. An avenging angel, perhaps. The angel of death. The angel of destruction. 

He had destroyed Harry, that was certain. Oh, yes, Draco had completely annihilated him. Unintentionally, of course. The blonde had no idea what he did to his rival. Of that Harry was sure. Simply put, if Draco had known about Harry's own thoughts, Harry was sure he would be hexed into oblivion. 

Seeing Draco standing there, black robes standing starkly out against the snow, pale hands and platinum hair blending in, Harry wasn't entirely sure he hadn't accidentally stepped into oblivion anyway. His stomach twisted and knotted, his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. If he had known Draco was out here, he would never have come out. He would have stayed in his dormitory where it was warm and comfortable and familiar. Where Ron and Hermione were busy playing chess. Where he felt safe. 

He would never have come out here, where Draco was. Because with Draco, he never felt safe. Not safe. He felt hot and cold and confused and relieved and dangerous, oh yes. But not safe. Never safe. 

Almost without conscious thought, Harry stepped closer to Draco. He heard his footsteps go through the snow loudly, and knew that Draco was aware of his presence. He felt silly, really, sneaking up on the boy like this. But what else could he do? Anytime he came face to face with Draco, a confrontation had always ensued. He didn't even know if this time would be different. He hoped that it would, but he knew that it was unlikely. 

After all, this whole situation was unlikely. It was unlikely that they would be able to have a civil conversation. It was unlikely that they wouldn't hex each other. It was extremely unlikely that Draco would ever return his feelings. 

Draco turned almost on cue, and another part of Harry, the part that wasn't nervous and breathless and unsure, could have laughed. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He was standing there. Just there, out of reach, just like always. Draco wanted to scream with the unfairness of it all. He had come out here just to get away from his thoughts of this boy, and who had shown up? Of course, that was just Draco's luck. These sorts of things happened to him constantly, like a fingernail being slowly bitten to the quick, or a loose thread being slowly unraveled. He could taste the bitterness on his tongue, and he swallowed thickly. 

Harry walked closer, an odd look on his face. He was extremely attractive, Draco's subconscious reminded him. He stood out sharply against the white background, and Draco somehow knew that even without the clear contrast, he would have been able to pick Harry out in a heartbeat. 

Draco's heart thudded in his chest. Why was Harry still walking towards him? Didn't he want to avoid a fight? It was almost Christmas, after all. Jolly time of year and all of that. Why spend it with his enemy? More to the point, why was he even out here anyway? Why wasn't the Gryffindor in his dormitory with his friends, laughing and enjoying himself while Draco stood out here alone and miserable? That was the way things always were. 

Had things changed? 

Draco didn't know. He did know, however, that Harry stopped mere feet in front of him. He felt compelled to say something, but all the remarks he wanted to say seemed to leave him at once. He could only call to mind the spiteful remarks he would normally have said. 

Yet he didn't want to be spiteful. Not tonight, not right now. He wanted to be left alone, or, barring that, he wanted peace. Neither would come from having Harry around; still, he couldn't find it in himself to chase the boy away. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry found himself staring at Draco. Again. He was surprised that no comment had been made towards him at all. Draco knew he was there; they were looking right at each other. But he hadn't said anything. 

Harry hated silence. It reminded him of cold nights spent curled in the cupboard, of dark corridors and red eyes, of all the lost moments he felt he had a right to have. He hated silence almost as much as he hated his own cowardice, which was showing itself rather blatantly at that particular moment. 

"Draco," Harry said suddenly, and blinked at himself after the word had left his lips. He hadn't actually meant to address the other boy, and certainly not by his given name. Now it was out there, thrown like a gauntlet between them, and Harry didn't know how to continue. 

Draco blinked slowly. It was just opening and closing his eyelids, really, it shouldn't affect him that much. Harry was about to say something else, he had no clue what, just anything would do, when Draco did it for him. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Harry." 

Strange and delicious, it slipped off his tongue like it belonged there. Maybe it did. Either way, Draco shocked both himself and Harry by speaking it aloud. 

There were certain things he had learned to keep quiet. Specific things that were meant to be locked away, kept hidden and secret from the rest of the world. Draco had a feeling saying Harry's name out loud was one of those things. It felt too right to be right. 

By the look on Harry's face, Draco judged a similar thought was running through his mind as well. Yet the look on his face was stunned, simple, and somehow beautiful all the same. Draco wanted to drink it until it was gone, savor it the way one would a sin. That look was a sin. It was a lie, the desire he saw there. 

It was better off not to think of such things. 

Draco cleared his throat and said, rather tonelessly, "What brings you out tonight?" 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was a good question. A very good question, and he had no idea how to answer it. At the very least, he could have made something up about Quidditch or Hagrid or something, anything, that would stop him from having to tell the truth. 

Yet he sensed that if he lied now, he would never get what he wanted from Draco. And that thought was enough to make him drop his guard and say the first thing that came to his mind. 

"You." 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The silence stretched on. 

Draco wasn't sure that he would live through it. 

He couldn't have heard Harry right. It was impossible. There was no way that Harry would ever say what Draco thought he heard. 

So Draco looked up as if to reply, caught sight of the blush that was quickly spreading across Harry's cheeks, and immediately lost any idea of what the correct response would be. 

"Oh." 

Harry laughed, and it seemed rather self-directed. "Is that all you have to say?" 

Draco thought about it. No, that wasn't all he had to say. He had a lot to say, actually, but it didn't seem quite as if Harry wanted to hear it. 

"No." 

"Well?" 

"Well what?" 

Harry sighed. "Well what did you have to say?" 

"It's funny, is all. You brought me out tonight as well." 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was Draco's voice. The drawling, almost bored tone that Harry knew obsessively well. But the words, they weren't Draco's. Draco would never say such a thing, especially not to Harry, especially not when they were alone. 

"Did I?" Harry asked. He didn't know what else to say. It seemed inappropriate to pretend as if Draco hadn't made that comment, and yet too presumptuous to assume that he had. 

"Yes. You did." Draco's voice was matter-of-fact. There was no room for arguments, and Harry wouldn't have been able to find some anyway. 

"Oh." 

Now it was Draco's turn to laugh. "You don't seem too thrilled by that idea." 

Harry stepped closer to Draco. There was still plenty of distance between them, but he felt the traitorous need to be closer to the boy. 

"It's not that I'm not thrilled." 

"What then?" 

"I'm not sure if I believe you." 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

"Well, I'm not sure I believe you either." 

It sounded childish even to his own ears, but it was the truth. He didn't even know how this conversation had come about. They had carefully avoided each other all this year and most of last, and suddenly they were speaking. He couldn't find a good enough lie to respond with, so he had settled for the truth instead. Lying to Harry used to be habit. He had never realized how easy it was to be honest with him as well. 

"Fair enough," Harry said. He walked forward and reached into his pocket. "Here," he said. He pulled out a bar of white chocolate. "Want some?" 

Draco's focus wasn't really on the question. He was more focused on the fact that Harry was about a foot away from him. He nodded silently, agreeing because he felt the sudden urge to agree with whatever Harry said to him, no matter what it might have been. 

Later, he would recall the odd look Harry had given him, a slow smile spread warmly over his face like cascading water, but at the moment the only thing he noticed was Harry's hand reaching out to him. Time passed in a way it never had before, and then Draco glanced down. He was slightly surprised to find Harry's hand on his, steady, unflinching. Slowly, Harry opened Draco's hand and put a piece of the white chocolate into it. 

Draco looked back up at Harry, unsure of what he was going to say, but knowing that he needed to say something. It was then that he realized Harry's eyes had never left his face. The knowledge made him blush, and he felt rather then saw Harry's gaze sweep across his face, inspecting the newfound crimson color. 

"Thank you," Draco said, quite suddenly. It was the only thing he had been able to think of. It would have to be enough. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

If Harry had thought it was a wonderful surprise to see Draco blushing, it was nothing compared to the warm feeling he got when Draco thanked him. The blush suited Draco, somehow, and Harry knew that he would want to see it again. 

"You're welcome," Harry said. 

His hand still tingled where he had touched Draco, and he hoped it wasn't too obvious. He had no idea how Draco would feel if he reached out to him again. He was anxious to try, but he was afraid of losing whatever peace they had reached. 

"Are you doing anything?" 

The question surprised him. Harry grinned. "Not right now, no." 

"Do you want to come back to my dorm?" 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco looked Harry squarely in the eyes. He knew his question had left Harry unsure, and confused. 

"Look," he said, continuing before Harry had a chance to speak. "It's cold out here. I'm getting frozen just standing here talking to you. If we go inside, at least we'll be warm." 

He saw Harry weighing the options. "But why your dorm?" 

Draco shrugged. "It's private. There's no one in seventh year around." 

"So?" 

"So do you want to stand in the middle of the Great Hall and finish this conversation?" 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was a damn good point. 

"Fine," Harry said. He could picture what it would be like for him to bring Draco to the Gryffindor dorm. Chaos at best, mass genocide at worst. 

Draco blinked, almost as if he hadn't been expecting that answer. 

"All right, then." 

Draco began walking towards the school. As he was passing, Harry reached out and grabbed his hand. Draco stopped short. 

Harry didn't know what had possessed him. He knew he had wanted to touch Draco's hand again, but he had been thinking of a casual brush. Not this sort of outright motion. 

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't move his hand away. Which was the only thing that mattered, when he thought about it. 

Harry shrugged and tightened his hold on Draco's hand. Draco maneuvered his hand so that it fit more comfortably against Harry's. Harry was pleasantly surprised by this, and he started walking back to Hogwarts with Draco at his side. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was an odd feeling, holding hands with Harry. He had thought it would feel weird and uncomfortable, wrong in some way. When he had thought of this he wasn't precisely sure, but sometime after he had met Harry he had imagined what holding hands with him would be like. 

This was not what he had imagined. 

It didn't feel wrong at all. It felt right, incredibly right. Their hands fit together just so, Draco's slim fingers held loosely by Harry's callused ones. He thought Harry's hands would be sweaty and dirty, what with all the running around he did. Or perhaps they'd be rough and slightly raw, from all the Quidditch practice. But Harry's hands were neither. They were warm and soft and just the right size. Even the calluses felt right. 

Which was obviously a clue that his mind had a temporary lapse in sanity. After all, here he was, bringing Harry down to his dorm room. His dorm room. The one place he had never thought Harry would ever see. 

By the time they got to the front door of Hogwarts, Draco's face was numb. He couldn't feel anything but Harry's hand covering his own, and for some reason it didn't seem to matter if that was all he could feel. He thought he had more control over himself than this, but apparently not. Apparently all it took to destroy him was Harry's hand. 

Now that was irony. 

Warm air hit him in a blast when he finally got inside the castle. His cheeks tingled with the sudden change in temperature, and his lips felt raw. Draco licked his lips unconsciously to get some moisture back into them. 

It was with more delight than was strictly necessary that he heard Harry's slight whimper. 

"Come on, then," Draco said, and pulled Harry down the corridor. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was hideously unfair that Draco was holding his hand and leading Harry towards the Slytherin dormitory, while all Harry could do about it was mentally control the urge to ravish the other boy. He was struck by how odd it was that he could want to ravish a boy, any boy really, but this one in particular. 

Then Draco licked his lips, and really he could not be blamed for any sound that might have accidentally escaped his mouth. 

Harry concentrated on his shoes. They were interesting shoes, really, when he thought about it. Scuffed and covered in dirt marks, they seemed to tell the story of his life at Hogwarts. Yes, the scuff marks were very interesting. Much more interesting than the fact that Draco was pulling him towards his dorm. Oh yes. His shoes were so interesting, in fact, that he couldn't keep his eyes off of them. 

Thus it was that Harry smacked face first into a corner that Draco had been turning. 

"Ergh," Harry mumbled. He brought his free hand up to his forehead to inspect the damage, and was mildly surprised when Draco batted it away. 

"You idiot. Here, let me see." 

Draco stepped close to Harry, close enough that he could inspect Harry's forehead and the small mark that seemed to be forming on it. He frowned slightly, and Harry's stomach made all sorts of weird movements. 

"Can't you even watch where you're going?" Draco grumbled. To Harry's ears, it seemed to lack the usual vehemence. He blushed and hated himself for it. 

"Come on, let's keep going," Harry said. 

They arrived at the Slytherin common room without further incident. It was empty, and Harry moved towards the nearest couch. Draco quickly held him back. 

"No." 

"What?" 

Draco grimaced. "We have to go to my room. Can you imagine what would happen if someone saw you here?" 

"Okay," Harry said. At Draco's blink, he realized he might have agreed a little too hastily. "I mean, er, it's your room. Whatever." 

Draco looked at him, and smirked. "Follow me." 

Harry was resigned to his fate. True, he wanted to be alone with the Slytherin, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to be alone with him, no matter how quickly he had answered. In fact, he was starting to feel like something was amiss about the whole situation, but he couldn't quite put his fingers on it. After all, Draco was never even civil to him, and he certainly wasn't nice. It didn't matter that he had been harboring a secret crush on the Slytherin for almost two years. What mattered was that Draco didn't know, would never know, and would never return his feelings. 

All of this hand-holding and lip-licking was just confusing him. 

When they got to Draco's room, Harry walked inside with trepidation. Despite himself, he was worried. He was expecting skulls and Death Eater paraphernalia, perhaps some lovely vials of blood and jars of animal organs to match. What he wasn't expecting was what he found. It was a normal dorm, just like his own except for the color scheme. The only thing different about it was that there was only one bed. 

Harry stopped and his face paled. Of course. Draco was a prefect. He had a prefect's single room. Hermione had one, but Ron had opted to continue dorming with Harry. There was no reason for Draco not to take up the offer, though. 

"Erm, Malfoy…" Harry said, turning, then stopped. Draco was standing right behind him. 

"Cherries?" 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco had watched Harry survey his room, and he'd watched the slow connection being made in his mind. He thanked all the powers that were once more for not being a Gryffindor. He didn't think he could stand the constant stupidity that came with it. It was almost as bad as being a Hufflepuff. Almost. 

"Er," Harry said, which was obviously the best he could come up with, since he had been opening and closing his mouth for the past minute. 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Would you like some cherries?" he repeated, taking care to act as if he was talking to a small, very slow child. 

Harry looked at the offered cherries. "Er… okay." 

Draco went over to his desk and opened the package that had been lying there. His mother had sent them from home, and he'd only had a few. It was really the only thing he could offer Harry, and for some reason he felt like he should be offering Harry something. 

Besides sex. 

Which he really couldn't offer without giving away his dramatic and desperate secret love for Harry. 

Which really sounded pathetic even to him. 

He turned around, holding a cherry in his hand. Harry hadn't moved from his spot, but he was looking over Draco's shoulder at his desk. 

"What are those?" 

"Hm?" Draco turned around to see what he was looking at. "Oh. Black roses." 

"Black roses? I didn't know roses came in black." 

Draco shrugged. "They don't. Not normally. These are specially bred roses." 

"Oh." Harry nodded like he understood, which was clearly not the case. 

"Nevermind," Draco said, waving his hand. "Here." 

"Wha-" Harry started, but was unable to finish. 

Draco had just put a cherry carefully into Harry's mouth. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Harry was sure he was hallucinating. After all, Draco had just hand-fed him a cherry. That was a hallucination. Definitely. It could not have happened in real life. 

So when he chewed slowly and swallowed, and Draco smiled at him, he wasn't quite sure how to respond. 

"Er…"

"Did you like it?" 

He nodded, feeling rather incapable of speech at the moment. 

"Do you want more?" 

Nod. 

Draco grinned. "All right." 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Five minutes later, they were sitting on Draco's bed, feeding each other cherries. It was quite comfortable, Draco thought, more so than he would have imagined. He liked the feeling of his fingertips brushing Harry's lips, and the sticky way they came back to him. He also liked the way he sucked on Harry's fingers when a cherry was brought to his own mouth. The first time it had been accidental, but when Draco saw Harry's eyes glaze over, he knew he'd be doing it again… and again… and again. 

"Malfoy, what's going on?" Harry asked. 

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he answered, fighting to keep a smile off of his face. 

"Er, we're feeding each other cherries." 

"Yes." 

"On your bed." 

"True." 

"So we're feeding each other cherries on your bed!" Harry exclaimed, as if that was the problem. 

Draco didn't think it was a problem, and he didn't think Harry really did either. 

"So?" 

"So, shouldn't we be, er, fighting or something?" 

Draco knew he was doomed when Harry licked his lips. He knew exactly what his body was going to do, regardless of the signals from his brain. So when he reached over and pushed Harry down on the bed, holding Harry's hands above him, one of them wasn't surprised at all. 

"You mean like this?" 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco's voice was husky, and Harry shivered. Okay, screw it, Draco was on top of him and if he didn't take advantage of the situation, he'd be an idiot. But there was still that small part of him that said this was wrong, Draco was just playing with him, it didn't mean anything to the blonde. 

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" 

"Do you want me?" 

Harry's eyes nearly burst out of his sockets. "What?" 

Draco shifted his weight, leaning down heavily on top of him. "Do you want me?" 

Harry closed his eyes and squeaked out the only answer he could. 

"Yes." 

Draco smiled. "Good." He leaned forward and kissed him, without warning or hesitation. 

Harry didn't have many kisses to measure by, but overall he'd have to say it was one hell of a kiss. Draco seemed to kiss into him, through him, and he could feel the other boy's tongue probing at his mouth. He opened it, and Draco was inside him, tasting. It was new and different and altogether wonderful. 

When Draco began to pull back, Harry moved upwards to follow him. Draco chuckled, and his voice was low and throaty. 

"Wait a minute, Harry. I should do something first." 

What on earth could possibly be so important that it needed to be done right now, Harry thought. He remained silent, though, and urged Draco on with a hurried shake of his head. 

Draco climbed off of Harry and crossed the room. He carefully took out the black roses, and walked back over to Harry. 

"What are you-"

"You like them, don't you?" Draco asked, quietly. "They're dark and not at all what you'd expect. They're beautiful, but they can still make you bleed. They're not common at all, either. You have to carefully grow one in specific conditions to get it to turn out just this way. A normal rose doesn't have this sort of color, or texture. It looks like it should be rough, but it's actually smooth. It feels like silk. Really, it's a waste to leave it standing there. You should have it all over you instead." 

Harry blinked at Draco and blushed, coming to the realization that maybe Draco wasn't talking about the roses at all. But then Draco began taking the petals off of the rose, one by one, and placing them on the bed around Harry. 

"What's the matter, Harry? Are you afraid to move? Do you not want to touch them?" 

"No," Harry answered in a strangled voice. "I'm not afraid." 

"Then what is it?" 

"You. It's you." 

Draco smiled, and it wasn't pleasant at all. He pulled the last petal off of the rose and dropped it onto Harry. 

"Is it?" 

It fell on his heart.

 

_fin._


End file.
